Bananas at the Bus Station

It is a truth universally recognized that a man, in search of a fruit, will opt for a banana.

This is no slight to apples or oranges. When in need of fending off doctors or scurvy, these will do. But there is no fruit greater than the humble banana. It is sweet, without being cloying. It is simple, without being bland. And it comes with a pre-made holder, assuming you open it properly.

Such was the thought process of Gregory as he sat at the bus terminal, hungry, watching a woman remove a banana from her purse. His first reaction was salivation. To have a banana to eat would be divine, he thought. A kiwi or a pear would be adequate, but a banana, heaven. At this point, he would even settle for a pomegranate, that devilish creation of overwork.

As Gregory’s bus pulled up, he watched as the woman prepared to eat her banana. His desire turned to horror as she made a fatal error.

She prepared to open it from the stem.

Gregory’s mouth opened. He sprang to his feet. He tore toward her like an Olympic sprinter running from a cheetah. He reached her just in time, swiping his hand down and knocking the banana from her grasp before she could do any worse. The banana bounced on the ground, off the curb, and onto the road as a bus pulled up, flattening the yellow phallus.

“What the hell?” the woman shouted.

“You have to open it from the other end.” Gregory said. “So you can hold it properly.” He turned and walked back to his bench to wait for his next bus. The woman shouted obscenities at him as she climbed on her own, but he knew he had just saved her an embarrassing consumption.

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